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“I am too old for mid-day wine,” Annette added, flipping her glass down as well.
“Never too old for that, Madame,” Dagmara said with a laugh.
Annette’s face insinuated that she was not amused.
The servant first poured a sip for himself in the tasting glass, struggling with the weight of the pitcher as he fumbled for a decent grip.
“Tell me, Princess, how is your mother?” Annette pried, loud enough for all to hear.
“She is well under the circumstances,” Dagmara replied.
“And how many years has it been since you and Claude have seen each other?” Annette pressed.
“Eleven,” Claude answered on Dagmara’s behalf, switching his attention to his advisor. “Don’t ask her a dozen questions.”
The servant drank his entire glass. Dagmara couldn’t help but notice Claude watching him diligently. This tasting must have been his idea.
“I’m not questioning her,” Annette responded, “I’m getting to know her. Shouldn’t you be doing the same?”
“I am,” said Claude.
“Actually,” Sabien mused, “I would also like to know more about the princess. Do you have any hobbies?”
Dagmara’s throat went dry. “I ride every morning,” she managed. At least Magda does. Magda always took her horse out to the waterfalls with Odie.
Sabien grinned. “Morning rides are my personal favorite.”
“Since when?” Claude glanced at his captain.
There was a clatter of silverware as the servant struggled for a grip on the pitcher. “Apologies, Princess,” he said under his breath, the sweat now running down his temple. He shifted his thumb and began pouring into her glass.
Casually, Sabien turned to address Claude. “I think we’re discussing two separate hobbies.”
The muscles in Claude’s neck tensed.
The servant reached over and poured Claude’s wine. The table was small enough that he didn’t have to walk around to the other side. There was something about the pitcher that was utterly familiar.
Annette spoke next, “Tell me about your royal education.”
Dagmara opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off.
“Don’t make me regret inviting you both,” Claude snapped. He grabbed the stem of his wine just as the servant finished pouring. He raised it to Dagmara. “To getting to know each other, in time, without a thousand questions.”
Annette let out an audible scoff.
Dagmara raised her glass, giving Claude a smile, her thoughts elsewhere.
The servant turned away with the pitcher in hand, but something about that pitcher felt like home. And he shouldn’t have struggled with his grip that much.
Claude brought the wine to his lips.
It was the same trick she had used in the tavern to poison her victims.
“No!” Dagmara screamed. She dropped her own wine glass, spilling it down her gloved hand, as she lunged across the table. She whacked the goblet firmly out of Claude’s grip, and the contents splashed on the front of his shirt.
A collection of gasps broke out from the servants and guards around the table, Madame Annette’s being the loudest. Sabien was already on his feet, and Claude shoved his chair back and rose.
“What was that?” Claude’s voice boomed.
